


Words Become Flesh

by showmeurteef



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Choking, Church Sex, Deepthroating, Demon Changkyun, Horror Elements, Implied Death, Light Sadism, Light facefucking, Mild Degradation, Mild Fear Play, Other, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Throat Bulging, changkyun monsterfucker nation a bit, changkyun mostly looks human, crying from pleasure, loosely drawing from christianity, religious imagery used in sexually explicit ways, worshipper hyungwon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26570407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmeurteef/pseuds/showmeurteef
Summary: There’s a gray tinge to his skin that sends droplets of cold sweat down Hyungwon’s spine, but his face is somehow sweet, sweeter than a sharp nose and cut jawline have any right to be. Maybe it’s the way he holds Hyungwon in his quick, dark eyes. Like he’s seen him before. Like he knows who Hyungwon is.hyungwon's going to hell <3extended/explained warnings within
Relationships: Chae Hyungwon/Im Changkyun | I.M
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	Words Become Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> warnings & explanations:  
> \- if religious (vaguely christian) imagery/symbolism/spaces used in sexual contexts makes u uncomfortable , this might not be the fic for u  
> \- it's implied that hyungwon worships demon changkyun n will be going to hell; while the stakes are high (particularly for human hyungwon) they both understand what they're doing n want to be doing it
> 
> lmk if u need any other cws/tws !!

“What are you praying for?”

A rumble slips beneath Hyungwon’s closed eyes, pries his fingers from the coarse runes in his prayer book. He blinks slowly, adjusting to the tiny flames flickering at the altar ahead. Threads of smoke reach for moonlight that’s been turned garish shades of yellow and violet by the stained glass it seeps through. The pews before him, behind him, beside him are empty. Wood creaks.

And there, mere inches from Hyungwon’s side, someone sits. Bent head draped in a chapel veil, the black lace barely visible atop his neat black hair. Simple, dark clothes. Hands folded neatly in his lap. In mourning? 

“I thought that prayers didn’t come true if you told them to someone,” Hyungwon replies, voice low. The smoke overhead and the stones underfoot compress his words. The person beside him, however, snorts, and the loud, breathy sound threatens to shatter the stained glass.

“That rule only applies to wishes.”

Hyungwon hadn’t noticed him come in. Perhaps he had been too absorbed in the pleas and incantations flowing through his head. A warm, familiar current that runs from the base of his skull to his tongue, apparently deep enough to drown out the sounds of an empty church suddenly becoming a bit less empty.

“You would know?” he hums. Still quiet. Still tight.

The person looks up. Hyungwon sucks in a deep breath and doesn’t dare let it go. There’s a gray tinge to his skin that sends droplets of cold sweat down Hyungwon’s spine, but his face is somehow sweet, sweeter than a sharp nose and cut jawline have any right to be. Maybe it’s the way he holds Hyungwon in his quick, dark eyes. Like he’s seen him before. Like he _knows_ who Hyungwon is.

“I would.” His pretty lips pull into an uneven smile, teeth sparkling beneath the shadowy veil. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, and Hyungwon notices how delicate they look, how fragile. The nails are black, but the color is too impossibly dark to be nail polish.

“Who are you?” Hyungwon asks, but it’s more of a shuddering exhale than a question. 

The other slides to the edge of his seat. The veil ripples with every motion. The pew creaks.

“Changkyun,” he replies, eyes twinkling as if he knows something that Hyungwon doesn’t. At the base of Hyungwon’s skull, desire glistens. Changkyun continues, that smile only growing wider, “And I’m not here to mourn.”

“No?” Hyungwon tilts his head, and considers asking how Changkyun knew what he was thinking, but lets the curiosity fade away. He doesn’t need to know. Changkyun is here, now, and that’s all that matters. His back softens against the pew, and he swallows a smile. The stained moonlight doesn’t reach down to the pews, but bits of it land on Changkyun’s face, anyhow.

“No.” Changkyun rises, takes a few viscous steps over the stone, and lays a delicate hand over the forgotten prayer book in Hyungwon’s lap. “I’ve been sent here.”

Hyungwon’s eyebrows raise. They lock eyes, their stares separated by a thin scrap of fabric and a few stray strands of hair. It feels so personal, so intimate. Like Changkyun’s eyes aren’t just seeing, but _listening_ to Hyungwon.

The hand snatches Hyungwon’s prayer book and snaps it shut. The sound alone is powerful enough to blow the altar candles out. In nothing but moonlight and the distant memorial candles still flickering at the entrance, Changkyun’s eye sockets look strangely hollow. Maybe his listening eyes are simply an illusion crafted for Hyungwon’s sake. He’s grateful.

“You pray every day, don’t you?”

Changkyun gingerly presses Hyungwon’s legs together, before sitting on his lap. His knees hit the back of the pew, caging Hyungwon in, and the prayer book falls, falls to the floor.

“I do,” Hyungwon replies.

He keeps his hands on the slivers of wooden pew still left to him within the cage of Changkyun, though he expects even the slivers won’t be left to him for much longer. Smoke tickles his nostrils, but it isn’t the same scent that’s been keeping his prayers company. It’s heavier, more like scorched logs than melted wax.

“You’re devout, aren’t you?”

The lacy edges of Changkyun’s veil flutter as he speaks. They tickle at his shoulders, his throat. The slate sweater he wears must be warm in the stuffy old church, but he feels like a summer breeze against Hyungwon’s body. Hyungwon wonders if all of his skin collects moonlight, or if it’s just his face.

“I am.”

Changkyun’s hands grip the back of the pew and his folded legs press into Hyungwon’s. His spine arches. His pants brush against the backs of Hyungwon’s hands. The cage tightens.

“Then, you get to touch me.”

Hyungwon bites back his retort as he finds himself peeling his hands from the pew, resting one against Changkyun’s hip and raising the other up, up. Openly reaching for Changkyun. For his throat. The veil whispers as Changkyun nods. Hyungwon hovers at the edge of it.

Changkyun’s hand meets his. A cool palm pressed against his wrist. Fingers curling one by one, until he has Hyungwon in his hold. The black looks even darker against Hyungwon’s veiny hand. Hyungwon realizes that there isn’t a single vein or tendon, a single sign of human anatomy visible beneath Changkyun’s skin.

“Who says I get to?” Hyungwon asks. Not petulant, just curious. 

The sky must’ve changed or, maybe, a few memorial candles have extinguished because Changkyun’s eye sockets have given way to deep, violet-gray circles beneath bright eyes. He frowns and settles more heavily in Hyungwon’s lap.

 _"I_ say,” he replies. Petulant.

A soft contentment seeps into Hyungwon’s lips. Easily, Changkyun guides his hand beneath the veil, until his throat is firmly swathed in Hyungwon’s hand. His adam's apple bobs. His breath shudders. An illusion, but warmth licks at Hyungwon’s core nonetheless.

Changkyun’s smile is a tiny, needlepoint thing, plucking at the corners of his lips. Hyungwon tightens his grip, long fingers _pressing_ into the skin. He can’t tell if there’s really a pulse, or if the quiet stillness of the church is playing tricks on his senses. Changkyun’s hand slips from Hyungwon’s wrist, falling limply at his side. He leans back, eyes shut, until the moonlight and smoke forms a halo around his head. When he moans, it sounds like the ringing of a distant bell.

 _“Angel,"_ Hyungwon sighs. 

Changkyun’s eyes snap open. _Angry_. 

_“No,”_ he croaks.

Hyungwon releases his throat, peeling back his fingers one by one, but Changkyun stays bent and gasping and staring in his lap. Grayish skin and a wet, red mouth just behind the veil. The warmth within Hyungwon turns liquid, rising and _rising_ to the base of his lungs. A flood yet to arrive.

“Who says you aren’t one?” Hyungwon’s tone is syrupy and teasing, despite the scene in his lap.

Changkyun rips the veil from his head to reveal flecks of gold in his hair. His brow is furrowed. The under eye circles look worse without the layer of lace, as if shadows are infecting his painfully bloodshot eyes. He looks sick. He looks sick and he looks _furious_. Hyungwon’s lips part around a wet gasp.

 _"I_ say,” Changkyun snaps.

Hyungwon stays perfectly still as Changkyun lunges forward. His hands rub gentle circles at the base of Changkyun’s spine and his neck bends softly to accommodate him. This only seems to make him angrier as he begins to kiss Hyungwon.

The kiss tastes of sour berries. He licks at the seam of Hyungwon’s soft lips, tongue scalding. He nips for permission into Hyungwon’s mouth, teeth sharp. So careful that it’s almost tender. Is this how his kind shows anger?

Remembering what he _gets_ to do, Hyungwon slips his hands beneath Changkyun’s sweater, but doesn’t find more skin. He finds _scales_. Rigid flakes that feel just like the iron candlesticks perched on the altar, once carried in by a younger, more innocent Hyungwon, who drowned in his linen robes. Hyungwon wants to pull away, to see if the scales really are made of iron, but Changkyun’s tongue is pressing into the roof of his mouth. Skating across the ridges of his pallet.

Hyungwon’s moan sounds so human compared to Changkyun’s own, but their breaths are equally hot. The sensation of _want_ has risen to his throat.

The moment that he wonders how to convince Changkyun to pull away, Changkyun does. He sinks impossibly further into Hyungwon’s lap, looking small and _aching_. Eyes wide. Mouth open. Hair mussed, though Hyungwon doesn’t remember running his hands through it.

_“Hyungwon.”_

His whine is like a bruise. Smarting, blossoming, fading. Hyungwon remembers the ache of genuflections held far too long, how he’d eventually sink back into the pew with the kisses of cold stone on each of his knobby knees. His body would protest down to his bones with every ritualistic rise and fall, but the candles stayed lit and his prayers kept echoing.

“Yes?” 

Hyungwon doesn’t ask how Changkyun knows his name. He simply lifts his eyes once he’s called, chest lighting as Changkyun’s tousled, glittering strands of hair fan out over Hyungwon’s view of the cross that hangs on the back wall. The candlelight and gold reflect each other, endless mirrors stretching the quiet church out and out. Hyungwon finds himself smiling.

“I’ll do anything for you.”

Hyungwon doesn’t know which of them says it, but he thinks that the hand that clutches at his beating chest is his own. He realizes his eyes have slipped shut.

He returns to the world to find Changkyun on his knees, between Hyungwon’s legs, although Hyungwon can still feel the phantom weight of his body on his lap. Changkyun tugs him to the edge of his seat by the meat of his shins. He presses his cheek against one of Hyungwon’s knees. His face is dark between the pews, where no light falls, but his smile is as bright as ever.

“Please?” Hyungwon whispers. Slowly, slowly he reaches forward to card his fingers through Changkyun’s hair, then raises them. He reaches for the heavens, but stops short at the moonlight. He gasps. Violets and yellows dance across his wiggling fingers, now flecked with gold dust. Some of it must fall away from Hyungwon’s skin and land in his eyes because his vision blurs, glitters.

He wants to look down at Changkyun before his eyes blink the effect away, but there are teeth on his knee and a rumbling, _“No.”_

The desires that fill Hyungwon from the pit of his stomach to the back of his throat force his attentions downward just as his vision returns to full clarity. Changkyun pushes his hair from his forehead to gaze up at Hyungwon. Like he has everything to give. Like he wants to give everything.

 _“Please.”_ Hyungwon doesn’t recognize the weight in his own tone. _Solid,_ even against the stones below. Changkyun breathes into the sound of Hyungwon’s voice, _into_ the pit of his stomach.

 _“Lust.”_ Changkyun’s cheeks redden, as if saying the word calls the sin into existence.

Hyungwon works at his trousers, unbuttoning them to the tune of Changkyun’s sighs and pulling his heavy dick out to the illusion of Changkyun’s blush. Changkyun’s hands shake as he reaches for it, as if he’s receiving communion for the very first time. A short laugh bursts from Hyungwon’s lungs at the image. Changkyun responds with a pout at the edge of Hyungwon’s dick, and Hyungwon _knows_ the expression is no more honest than the rest of Changkyun, but it plucks at his heartstrings all the same. 

“Oh, _angel_ , I’m sorry.” His hushed coo is met with a _hiss_ , the two sounds echoing like a choir’s harmony throughout the empty church. 

Changkyun glares up at him. Hyungwon caresses the crown of Changkyun’s head, and Changkyun’s reply gets lost in a tune of want. Hyungwon rubs gingerly at his heated scalp and, finding it as smooth as his own, slips his fingers down to his ears. He catches each pinkish shell and rubs at the flimsy flesh. Changkyun tenses, shrinks, and releases throaty, weak noises. A glowing wick at Hyungwon’s feet.

Hyungwon keeps his thumbs over Changkyun’s ears, and stretches his hands over his skull until he has enough purchase to guide him towards his cock. The shadow-infected eyes look up at him, looking more like empty, violet sockets in the dark. A shiver runs down Hyungwon’s spine. He moans.

“Fill my head with nothing but you.”

Their mouths are both open, and the words hang between their breathless forms until Changkyun swallows them. Closes his pretty lips around the swollen, weepy head of Hyungwon’s dick and slides forward with impossible ease. His features come into full relief as he emerges from the darkness between the pews and presses into the dim lighting at the base of Hyungwon’s stomach. From the skull-like phantom, to the wholly entrancing creature.

Hyungwon grips Changkyun’s head with shaky hands. The laughter in Changkyun’s bloodshot eyes only thickens the desire within Hyungwon. His hips stutter. His tongue slips out from his lips. He’s afraid his entire body will burst with the scent of that heavy smoke.

He moves himself and Changkyun like a cup brimming with sacred blood, minus the linens drowning his younger self’s hands. He mutters an apology as he uses a hand to steady himself against the pew because he's only left with one other hand to stretch over Changkyun’s sensitive little head. But Changkyun just blinks up at him without complaint, eyes shining, eyes still. Hyungwon is more squating than he is seated, but he doesn’t, won’t, could _never_ mind the ache. He positions himself as carefully as possible to avoid spilling a single, sacred drop.

 _“Oh,”_ he gasps, fully enveloped by Changkyun, who’s looking so sweetly up at him through those hollow sockets. _“Devotion.”_

A blush rises to Hyungwon’s cheeks. He bends his knees and steadies Changkyun’s head _just_ so, dipping into the plush heat below. Shallow, heavy thrusts. The impossible tightness bends around him. The sounds of him in Changkyun, of Changkyun around him, drench the stuffy church. Splattering against stone and dripping down stained glass. Nothing like bells, nothing like a choir.

“It’s _heavenly_.” Hyungwon gapes at Changkyun. Tiny beneath him, taking him _all_ the way in. “You’re Good, you’re Divine, you’re—”

The wet noises of Changkyun’s throat grow impossibly loud, slicing through Hyungwon’s praises. Changkyun digs his ebony nails into Hyungwon’s legs, even though he doesn’t really need the anchor. He starts moaning _obscenely_ around Hyungwon’s dick, sending vibrations up his spine. Such an ugly thing to be met with flickering candles and stained glass. 

“You’re perfect, Changkyun. My perfect little angel,” Hyungwon sobs. His knuckles go white against the pew, but he tries to maintain the tender hold on Changkyun’s head as he sees _himself_ in Changkyun’s throat. His swollen heat, _dragging_ and _bulging_ through Changkyun’s illusions of body and blood.

Hyungwon thinks a fleck of gold must’ve fluttered up from Changkyun’s bobbing head because, suddenly, tears are clinging to his eyes. Like shards of glass. Like tongues of fire. He’s _crying_. Tears raining down onto Changkyun's stretched face.

“I— I’ll tell you—” He chokes, his knees screaming with effort to keep him upright and his eyes only granting him shattered, heated bits of Changkyun. “My prayers—”

The orgasm is ripped from him, sizzling as if tossed in a baptismal font. Blinking, _blinking_. He searches for Changkyun through his tears. He can’t breathe, his lungs are ablaze.

A sense of _reverence_ resounds with almost enough force to snap every last one of his bones. He finds the hazy outline of Changkyun’s shoulders and hauls him upright with a labored shout.

Hands far too fragile to be his own wipe at the last of his tears, smearing coolness against his heated cheeks. His eyes meet the stone floor, breath and gravity coming easier as soon as he orients himself, as soon as the tears have gone. But the liquid desire within him hasn’t disappeared. It’s solidified. Filling him, tethering him, holding him.

He lifts his gaze to Changkyun.

“Changkyun, Changkyun, _Changkyun_ ,” he sighs and clutches at his chest to keep his heart from leaping through his ribcage. 

Changkyun’s face is dotted with tears, with _Hyungwon’s_ tears. Tiny diamonds fanning over his pretty cheeks and clinging to his fluttering eyelashes. His little mouth a blooming rose, his nose a moonlit peak. Gold-dusted hair slides aside from his forehead as he looksinto Hyungwon’s grateful eyes.

Changkyun’s hands are clasped neatly, respectfully in front of his chest. Ever so slightly, his sleeves have bunched up to reveal scales encircling his pretty wrists. They _are_ made of iron, coarse and dark. Fully exposed, the iron-ringed arms topped with smooth, lively hands must look just like those candlesticks from so long ago. 

Phantom sobs wrack through Hyungwon’s form, overwhelmed and overjoyed. His palms are upturned, hovering just below Changkyun’s chin. He can see himself reflected in Changkyun’s inky and red-threaded eyes, _rapturous_.

“I’m _saved_.”

He sinks to his knees, Changkyun’s quiet gasp somehow loud enough to muffle the sound of bone bruising against stone. From this angle, nothing but shadow touches Changkyun’s downturned expression. He looks down at Hyungwon, and all Hyungwon can make out is teeth and the barest hint of gold fluttering down from his head. His hands are scalding against Hyungwon’s cool, tear-stained face. 

“Your prayers have been answered, Hyungwon. You’ve been saved.” He speaks like crumbling stone. His thumbs trace gentle circles over Hyungwon’s cheeks, touches so hot that they shimmer, spark, _ignite_. “For me.”

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh they were so fun to write :') pls pls lmk if u enjoyed !! kudos n comments = free nonstop one-way tickets to heaven (or hell? whichever u prefer)
> 
> u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/showmeurteef) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/showmeurteef)


End file.
